


Newness

by TheHiddenMemory



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Also no Dan devil reveal, Because come on, Because no lovemaking side effects, Episode: s05e06 Blueballz, F/M, Post-Episode: s05e06 Blueballz, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:55:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28692048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHiddenMemory/pseuds/TheHiddenMemory
Summary: Series of moments exploring Lucifer and Chloe's newly established relationship. Set after their first time in 5x06 but with no unexpected side effects of their lovemaking.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 35
Kudos: 292





	1. Newness

**Author's Note:**

> Also, no devil reveal for Dan.
> 
> As of now I have 2 written with the intent to add more, but no guarantees, as the muse is notoriously unpredictable...

The elevator doors slide shut.

Alone.

Finally.

Chloe made it through the day.

Finally.

The day following her and Lucifer's first time. Together.

Finally.

Chloe waits.

The elevator begins its ascent.

Chloe waits some more.

She's all too aware.

The untapped giddiness of the day rolls and whirls and flares. Her fingers twitch. She can hardly contain it. To pretend. All day. To work in close proximity while condemning herself to a 'hands off' policy she didn't expect him to honor and is secretly put out that he did. _I'm an idiot._

She's all too aware. All too aware of Lucifer standing inches away now in the inclosed space. And there are no distractions now, no self-imposed reasons to hold herself in check, so she doesn't understand why she still doesn't move, why he doesn't either. They've already _slept_ together. It's insanity.

Lucifer takes out his _phone_ , of all things, tapping a few keys, and Chloe is offended once again, because he doesn't appear affected at all, while Chloe herself is just about ready to burst _._ How dare he. How dare he be so—

Chloe realizes then.

Because this is _Lucifer_ , and he's much _too_ calm. And still. And quiet. He stares down at his phone but his thumb has stopped moving. There's an edge to his stance, a self-imposed caution that is so out of character it has Chloe's vibrantly thumping heart catching in her chest. The newness of it all, the fragility, overwhelms them both, and Chloe realizes then that despite Lucifer's overabundance of experience with women, _this_ , what they have, is just as new for him as it is for her, maybe more so, and the vulnerability she registers in him in that moment presses into her heart. Suddenly, she can no longer recall the reason for her own hesitation.

The elevator chimes open, and Lucifer steps out into the penthouse first, repocketing his phone. He turns around to face her. "Well, now that—"

Chloe doesn't allow him to finish. She's out of the elevator, her body crashing into his, her arms going around his neck, trying to pull herself upward and onto him at the same time. Lucifer responds to her attack with equal enthusiasm, dispelling any lingering misconceptions. His arms lift her from the floor, his hands going beneath her thighs to help guide her legs around him.

"Now that's more like it," Lucifer says against her mouth. "I was beginning to think I'd lost my immaculate skills, or, more likely, that you might be grievously ill."

Chloe laughs shakily, her fingers gripping his shoulders. Despite the crass, Lucifer-typical remark, there's an intensity in the way his eyes hold hers, and Chloe's pulse accelerates as he swings her around and plops her down on top of the piano to free his hands. After promptly discarding his jacket, he settles himself between her legs and takes her face in his hands to kiss her more thoroughly.


	2. Insecurities

His jacket and shirt have been discarded, and he's lifted her shirt over her head, his fingers catching against her unadorned black bra.

And Chloe doesn't know why it happens. They've done this before—once only, but it didn't matter then and it shouldn't matter now.

Least of all now. Any uncertainty as to the depth of her feelings has all but obliterated—last night saw to it, just as surely as it has left her in such a giddying state ever since. How long it has taken them to arrive here. How long she has wished it could. How much she wants this—to a degree that leaves no doubt, no doubt at all.

So it shouldn't matter. It shouldn't matter at all. But the unpredictable, intractable whirlwind of the mind can be vexatiously unreasonable at times, spiraling out of control without a moment's notice, when least expected or wanted.

Chloe's arms and legs are around him and her back sinks into the mattress as he deposits her there. His bare chest is wide and heavy and gloriously masculine as he presses her further into the mattress. And it's different than the first time. Less mindless abandon, more slow thoroughness, more... _intimate,_ though it's hard to reckon how that's possible. His hands are big and warm and perfect and unquestionably expert to a breathtakingly dizzying degree—to the likes of which is admittedly unprecedented to her. He whispers in her ear, something seductive, and suddenly Chloe's own hands are unsteady, because it comes with no warning at all, the insecurities, ones she didn't know she had, flooding her, sliding uncontrollably through her chest and migrating outwards to her limbs, unsteady, uncertain, and abruptly inadequate.

Lucifer notices the change in her, quicker than she expects, and before she can dispel her own idiocy; he pulls back, looking mildly piqued. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Chloe blurts, her fingers fumbling as she strokes distractingly at the stubble along his jaw. "Nothing's wrong."

His brows pull together.

Chloe shakes her head, and Lucifer stares down at her, his features becoming increasingly perplexed. "Hang on," he says, his face ducking lower to peer at her more closely, and he's incredulous now, a hint of amusement. "Are you _blushing_ , detective?"

Chloe stalls. Fights the embarrassment, the awkwardness. "Okay, don't laugh but...it's just...your sexual history is a lot more... _adventurous_ than mine. I mean, you've been with many, _many_ gorgeous women who were likely _very_ experienced and skilled by comparison, and it's hard not to...feel a bit...lacking."

Lucifer blinks. Stares. Stares some more—a hint of disbelief.

"You know what, never mind," Chloe cuts in before he can react further. "It's stupid. Fleeting moment and all that. Forget I said anything."

Lucifer recovers—mostly. Something in his eyes changes, talking her off guard—she _did_ half expect him to laugh at her. "Chloe," he says, taking her face between his hands, and her heart does a little flip as it always does each rare occasion he uses her name. "This...I mean, what we have, it's not the same as any of my...I mean, it's different...you know that, don't you?" He stares at her, face notably drawn while he wrestles, as usual, to convey his feelings, but the fact that he's trying, and the delicate way his thumb is stroking her cheek, is enough for Chloe's heart to press upwards into her throat. There's definitely no doubt, no doubt at all.

Chloe swallows and nods, a smile ghosting on her lips. She covers one of his hands with her own, then turns her head to kiss the inside of his palm. She looks at him, beating back the pesky insecurities, succeeding—mostly—and waiting for him to continue where they left off.

There's still a pinch to his brow as he looks at her, and Chloe's inwardly kicking herself for her misstep, but after only a moment's hesitation he draws her against him, his hand pressing her cheek into his chest. He just holds her there, the gesture uncharacteristically sweet, the sound of his heart thumping steadily in her ear, his chest rising and falling, and Chloe knows then that she's fallen so far in love with him there will never be any going back.


	3. Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks for those of you that left me some love - it feeds the muse! :) Hope you enjoy this next one!

Chloe attempts to read the same line in the report for a third time, or maybe it's the fourth, she's not sure. Another glance toward the precinct entrance. Another attempt at the report. Another glance. A sigh. A sip of her coffee that she subsequently chokes on when she notices it's still too hot. She sets down the cup and gulps. Tells herself to snap out of it. There's no place for this floaty, useless, daydreaming, distracted Chloe, at least not while she's working.

Chloe shifts in her seat and a prickle of heat creeps into her cheeks when she notes she's actually _sore (_ a delicious and thoroughly satisfying kind of sore, but still—she's not entirely accustomed).

She should not be thinking about this right now.

Chloe stares at the report. Sneaks another glance at the entrance. Now she's seriously questioning the sagacity of workplace relations.

"That good, huh?"

Chloe jumps, nearly knocking over her coffee cup in the process.

Ella grins, catlike, as she hops onto the edge of Chloe's desk, feet swinging. "I saw that, Decker. I know that look."

Chloe feels her ears getting hot. She pointedly shuffles some papers around on her desk. Ever since finding out about her and Lucifer's...well, you know, her friend has been like a child who recently discovered Disney World. Chloe clears her throat. "Don't know what you're talking about."

Ella's grin only widens. "Chlo, you're _glowing_. No sense denying. Now come on, gimme the deets."

Chloe bites down on her lip. Was it really that obvious? Now she _really_ needs to snap out of it.

"Come on, Chlo, _please?_ You and Lucifer are just so adorbs. You gotta give me something."

"Would you keep your voice down," Chloe hisses—Ella rolls her eyes at this—"And not at work, okay?"

Ella gives her a wounded look, then notices her friend sneaking another glance toward the entrance. "So," she says, feigning casual but unable to keep a straight face, "where _is_ Lucifer by the way? You know, considering you've already seen him this morning and all." She's grinning at Chloe knowingly again. The girl is incorrigible.

Chloe relents with a sigh. "He should be here soon."

"And you didn't come together because...?"

Chloe meets Ella's devious look with a meaningful glare of her own. " _Because_ Lucifer never arrives this early."

"Uh huh."

"And because we're both professionals who aren't going to let our personal lives interfere with our work." Chloe recognizes the irony of the lie.

"Uh huh," Ella repeats.

"Besides, Lucifer had to take care of some things at Lux this morning."

"Whatever you say, Decker." Ella is still grinning. She hops off the desk and waggles her brows suggestively. " _Later_ , Chlo, I'll be waiting." She skips off in the direction of the lab, ponytail bobbing behind her.

Chloe shakes her head. Tries to resume her attempts at the report. Fiddles with her pen. Tries not to look toward the entrance—again. Fails. Contemplates hitting herself over the head with her keyboard to see if it will help cure the persistent wandering of her thoughts while simultaneously questioning why she wants a cure at all.

* * *

Chloe has to admit she has it bad. Her head still feels as if it's floating in a very pleasant fog, and her heart feels swollen in a bubble of happiness she'd rather like to stay in.

She knows the moment he enters.

A slither of warmth begins in her stomach.

Impeccably dressed in a perfectly tailored navy suit and dark, steel blue dress shirt, complete with a burgundy pocket square, her partner—and very recent _lover_ —looks oh so Tall, Dark, And _sinfully_ Handsome, even from across the room.

Chloe is overtaken with a powerful urge to rush over and into his arms—to hell with everything and everyone else—and the sheer force of it takes her so off guard she feels momentarily displaced by it.

She definitely has it bad.

Another less tangible urge materializes: to wrap a hand around her heart and never let it go.

Lucifer pauses to greet the new temp behind the front desk, awarding her with his effortless charm and overshadowing presence, rendering the poor young girl a bit flushed and tongue-tied before plucking a donut from the box on the counter and continuing on his way with his usual joviality. He stops a few more times to greet several others before his eyes finally lock onto Chloe, and that slither of warmth in Chloe's gut begins to curl and spread. His stride in her direction is almost predatory, and Chloe's stomach leaps into her throat and back, rather like a massive rollercoaster she'd sooner not get off.

He reaches her desk.

The slant to his grin is just a bit smug.

"Good morning, detective," he greets, rather loudly, plucking up the chair in front of her desk and plopping it down directly beside hers with a one-handed flourish. He sits, chair angled, his long legs stretching out until his knees almost knock into hers, and Chloe is instantly conjuring up some less than appropriate flashbacks of this morning. She fights the warmth creeping into her face, but Lucifer's grin appears to take on an added layer of gratification. "Long night?" he asks shamelessly, setting down his half-eaten donut and gesturing to the coffee cup by way of an excuse.

Chloe doesn't rise to the bait. "As a matter of fact, yes."

"Oh? Do tell," he persists zealously, leaning toward her. The stubble covering his chin and jaw is slightly longer than usual, lending to a more rugged look Chloe thinks is sinfully appealing. His hair is neatly combed back from his face, but there's just a bit more untamed curl to it, and Chloe's fingers twitch with the urge to touch.

He leans even closer, his wide shoulders eclipsing her view of much else, and Chloe feels an instant jolt, her hand flying up to deliver a warning shove to his chest. "Behave," she hisses. The hard warmth of his chest through his shirt is oh-so familiar, and she quickly drops her hand the instant he finally complies.

"Where's the fun in that?" he quips as he leans back, merciless devil that he is, all too arrogant grin firmly planted.

Chloe shoots him another warning glare.

He settles languidly into his chair, still grinning, and Chloe feels her own lips curving upward. She's secretly pleased to see his at-work etiquette (or lack-thereof) relaxing to a more Lucifer-typical one despite the newness of their relationship. He was a bit more...subdued the first day, honouring her request that they keep things strictly professional at work to a 't' —a feat far too atypical—for _Lucifer_ —to be at all what she expected, or wanted for that matter.

"So," Lucifer says, "what's on the docket for today?"

Chloe picks up his half-eaten donut and takes a bite before sliding the autopsy report over the desk toward him.

* * *

Chloe exits the holding room, oddly elated. Suspect in custody. New evidence in progress. New case number one. And two. Pile of waiting paperwork. And—okay, so her good mood isn't work related. So what? She's allowed to be happy.

Chloe's stomach does that weird floaty thing again.

_Let's not get too distracted now._

Piece of cake. She's got this.

Chloe squares her shoulders, continuing on her way, glancing one direction, then the other. Then—

Crashes into something solid.

Chloe momentarily has the wind knocked from her and her backward trajectory is halted only by a pair of arms that catch and hold her upright.

"Steady there, detective," says a very familiar, amused voice.

Not something.

 _Someone_.

"Lucifer, what are you doing?" Chloe demands as she tries to take a wobbly step backward.

"Me? It's hardly my fault you're not looking where you're going." Chloe extricates his arms from around her, but Lucifer looks unfazed. "Not that I'm complaining. You're welcome to mow me down anytime." His grin is unabashed.

Chloe clears her throat. Doesn't move. Stares. Keeps staring. She really ought to—

Chloe doesn't get to finish the thought. A few feet away is the closet-sized meeting room currently being used as an overflow room for old case files. There are boxes strewn about the floor haphazardly—Chloe knows this because she trips over one when Lucifer tugs her inside in a matter of seconds and closes the door behind them.

"Lucif—"

Chloe's protest is silenced by the searing heat of his mouth on hers, and a small sound escapes her throat when she finds herself effectively pinned between the wall and Lucifer's body. The resulting internal explosion of heat and desire renders her near incapable of rational thought. Her hands are gripping and tugging at him before she even realizes it, relieving him of his jacket in record speed, and if not for the box digging uncomfortably into her heels she may have succumbed completely.

"...Lucifer...wait...can't...not...here," Chloe somehow manages to get out between kisses. "...someone...might...come..."

Lucifer's lips move to her throat, and his low chuckle vibrates through her tantalizingly. "That's what makes it all the more _fun_."

Chloe shakes her head, her arms feeling rather molten-like as she attempts to retract them. " _Lucifer,_ " she half-gasps.

Lucifer releases a long-suffering sigh but allows her to retreat, and Chloe sways momentarily before solidifying her footing beneath her.

"Well," Lucifer says, "it's hardly my fault. You started it."

"Me?" Chloe chokes. "You're the one who dragged me in here."

He steps into her space, and Chloe feels rather dwarfed. Having forgone her four-inch heels today as a result of her rushed morning, he towers over her even more than usual, and he appears to swallow up all remaining space in the room. "I was referring," he tells her, bracing a hand on the wall on either side of her and causing her heart rate to accelerate rapidly, "to the _look_ you gave me."

Chloe groans, flinging her arms back around him and smashing her lips to his. "...we...can't..." she tries between kisses.

"Can," Lucifer insists, and Chloe gasps when he slides his knee between her legs.

Hot delicious, heat pools at her center, but Chloe feels an added bit of shock when the movement also triggers a rather embarrassing reminder she decides to use to her advantage. With a shove to his shoulder she mutters, "I'm still sore from last time, you Jerk."

Lucifer pulls back to look at her dubiously, but then a slow and wicked grin forms. "Really?"

She punches his shoulder again, her cheeks getting hot. "Yes, really. You're, um..." Her eyes flicker downward to the subject of discussion. "...big, you know." (an understatement).

Lucifer, the egotistical bastard is enjoying this far too much. "Why, thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment." (a lie).

"Yes, it was."

"No, it wasn't."

"Trying to insult my ego, detective?"

"Assuming that's possible." (it's not).

Lucifer lowers his lips to her ear. "I don't seem to recall you offering any complaints at the time, Love."

Chloe's entire face feels hot now. "I was...distracted."

Lucifer slowly slides his lips down from her jaw. "How about if I kiss it to make it better?"

" _Lucifer_."

He lifts his head, self-satisfied grin firmly in place. "No?"

"Not here," Chloe shout-whispers, her face aflame.

"You really are adorable when you're flustered."

"I'm not flustered."

"Yes, you are."

"Can you _please_. We need to get back."

"I'd rather go back to convincing you to have sex in the closet."

Chloe glares.

"No? How about if I promise to fly us out the window at any intrusion?"

Chloe knows he's teasing, but her mind still does a double take. After all, casual references to his _wings_ is going to take some getting used to. Lucifer's brow goes up, clearly enjoying her reaction, and Chloe just shakes her head, feeling somewhat awed.

Lucifer relents. "Very well, but..." He reaches out to smooth the rumpled collar of her blouse and re-buttons the top two buttons. "That's better."

Chloe's lips tug upward, the skin where his fingers had just been still tingling. She clears her throat and glances down in search of his jacket. "Um, you should probably..." She locates the jacket and hands it to him.

"Right," he says, slipping his arms back into the sleeves, and Chloe steps forward to help lift it up onto his shoulders. Then her hands drop to fiddle with his skewed pocket square, and it takes her a moment to realize he's grown quite still. She glances up to see him staring down at her, all traces of playful humor gone. It occurs to her then that he's likely unaccustomed to being fussed over in such a manner and her heart pulls a bit at the realization.

He recovers soon enough, and Chloe can almost see those many walls of his re-solidify as he breaks eye contact and takes a step toward the door. "Well. Shall we, then?"

He reaches for the door handle, but Chloe catches his arm. He looks back at her, confused, but she doesn't give him a chance to speak.

Rising to her toes she wraps her arms around his neck, bringing his lips down to hers to kiss him with all the tenderness she feels in that moment. "Okay," she whispers when she breaks away, her fingers tracing around his lips as she smiles up at him, "Now we can go."

The mixture of surprise and wonder she sees on his face is equal parts endearing and heartbreaking.


	4. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine’s Day! :)

The elevator comes to a smooth stop at the top floor, and Chloe runs a hand down over her skirt. Once more there's a tentative kind of anticipation that Chloe's aware doesn't make a lot of sense, but the raw, unfettered happiness more than makes up for it. Chloe's aware she's falling hard and fast—that spending so long burying her true feelings only seems to have heightened them tenfold now that she no longer has or _wants_ to—and there's a very real danger in this, but Chloe no longer cares. She lets the happiness bubble around and inside her as the doors slide open.

Said doors are only halfway open when Chloe is met with a distance crash, followed by the familiar-sounding, muffled curse.

Chloe's steps falter halfway out the elevator when greeted by the sight before her—she narrowly escapes being pinned in the opening.

It's not that she didn't know it would be...a date of sorts. She just didn't expect...well, _this_.

The lighting in the room has been effectively dimmed, accentuating the ornate little candlelit table set for two—and candlelit may be a bit of an understatement, considering the candles aren't isolated to the table alone but instead are scattered about various locations in the wide, open space of the luxurious penthouse. The table is adorned with a cloth cover, flowers, impressively folded napkins, and expensive looking silverware.

It's not even precisely this elaborate scene that has Chloe reacting. Rather, it's largely Lucifer himself.

In his three-piece ensemble reduced to two—sans jacket—Lucifer is situated by the penthouse island bar and in the process of straightening quickly when Chloe enters. "Ah! Detective, you're here." He snags two wine glasses from the bar, followed by a bottle of wine, seemingly intent on his task, but Chloe is struck by a sense of agitation in him. His waistcoat is marginally creased, and his pristine white dress shirt beneath it is turned upward at the cuffs.

"Lucifer...what is all this?" she finally manages to ask, her eyes sweeping the room once more, from the candles, to the flowers, to the elaborate table setting, to the two cloche covered dinner plates sitting atop the bar.

"Hm?" Lucifer hands are busy with the task of filling the glasses. "Oh, I thought we could have some dinner first"—he finally sets down the bottle—"Boeuf bourguignon. Classic. You do like Boeuf bourguignon, don't you? Because—"

"Lucifer—"

"—if not I can always whip up something else. Or order in, if you prefer. Unless of course you'd rather dine out? In fact, maybe that's better. Dinner and a movie. Classic date night, am I right? And speaking of—"

"Lucif—"

"Ah! Here we are." A folded piece of paper is produced from his pocket. "Since we have the entire weekend, I made a list, of possible activities. Now these first two might not work, but the rest is—"

Chloe has reached him now, and she finally silences him when she slips her arms around his waist and presses close to him, doing exactly what she's ached to do since the moment she stepped off the elevator—longer, in fact. The ache slowly transforms into one of a different kind, one that she's becoming increasing familiar with each and every time she offers Lucifer tender affection of any kind—any kind that's not tied to sex, that is. She feels it now, that sense that her heart is being pierced with a sharp shard of glass, as he stares down at her with a look that is also becoming increasingly familiar—the look that's an odd mix of surprise, uncertainty, disconcertment, and, even worse, a kind of _awe_ that seems to stare back at her from behind his eyes in the form of various broken, agonizing pieces. Her throat works as she tells him softly, "You don't have to do this."

One of his hands still holds up the piece of paper, hovering awkwardly in the air above her, while the other appears frozen at his side.

"All this _date_ stuff," Chloe forges on. "You know, dinner and a movie, long walks on the beach, etc, etc. I know that's not you, and I don't need—" She plucks the piece of paper from his fingers and tosses it over his shoulder, "any of that." She loops her arms back around him and waits patiently for his free hand to be put to better use. Eventually, he gets the hint, his hands slowly settling around her lower back. Chloe leans her chin against his chest and angles her face to look up at him. "You see," she tells him, "this is all I wanted since I got here."

"Me very confused?" Lucifer guesses.

Chloe pokes him in the chest. "No, silly," she says, wrapping her arms back around him pointedly, " _this—_ you holding me."

"Oh."

Chloe senses his discomfiture, his uncertainty, and the shard twists a little bit further. She slides a hand up his chest, and then to the back of his neck, which feels surprisingly damp, as if he's been sweating. Chloe knows this kind of intimacy is entirely foreign to him, and that he's terrified of it; she sees it in his eyes more often than not.

She sees it now.

She wants to tell him it's okay. She wants to tell him she loves him.

She doesn't.

She knows he's not ready to say it back to her.

It's okay.

She can wait.

She understands.

She understands striping oneself completely bare to someone else is not easy for anyone, but that for Lucifer...for Lucifer it's far harder, and never is a person more at their most vulnerable than when they say _I love you_ to someone for the first time. Chloe knows. Chloe knows better than anyone.

"I'm...not very good at this," Lucifer settles on.

"I know."

Chloe takes him by the hand and leads him over to the long leather sofa, drawing him down beside her. He looks unsure of what to do next, and Chloe chooses to be amused, because it's easier than the alternative. She kicks off her heels, drawing her legs up and scooting underneath his arm, making herself comfortable against him. He gets the idea quicker this time, and his arm relaxes around her.

"I like long walks on the beach," he offers.

Chloe does laugh then. She tries to formulate a better way to explain herself. "Lucifer...don't get me wrong...it's not that I don't appreciate...all of this." She waves a hand at the elaborate table setting and candle arrangements. "Everything looks...beautiful...I just don't want you to think you have to go to all this trouble. When we agree to spend a weekend together it doesn't mean you need to...make elaborate plans or...prepare an itinerary...or follow any kind of dating etiquette. I mean, sure, if we decide we want to go somewhere or do something special that's great, but, after a long and tiring week, I don't want you to feel you have to...try so hard." Chloe winces at how that sounds, and rushes to add, "It's nice if you do but...it's not always necessary, you know?" Chloe thinks she really ought to shut up now. She lifts her head to look up at him. His brow is faintly drawn. "What I'm trying to say is..." She shifts so that her knees are resting in his lap now, her hand sliding up to his collar. "I don't really _care_ what we do. I just want to be _with_ you." He stares down at her and she doesn't have much warning before his hand slides up to the back of her head and he's kissing her. It's a slow kiss but there's a hint of aggression that has Chloe's fingers fisting in the collar of his shirt. When they break apart she's panting a little.

"Wine?" Lucifer offers before they can decide to forgo dinner all together. He doesn't wait for an answer before he stands and retrieves their glasses.

He hands her a glass and sits, and Chloe takes a few sips before setting down the glass and leaning back against him, drawing up her feet again so that her bare knees rest against his thigh, not caring that her skirt has risen up to mid-thigh level. Lucifer's hand, big and warm, comes to rest just above her knee before tracing absently up and down the curve of her bare leg, while she relays one of Ella's most recent antics from earlier that day.

Chloe finds herself getting distracted by the attentions of his hand and falls silent again soon enough, unable to pretend she doesn't notice the way he touches her. The thing is, sex with Lucifer is...well, _beyond_ incredible, there's no question. Obviously, the man knows what he's doing, is undeniably charming, and one certainly can't complain about his looks (understatement of the century..), but Chloe has also discovered, with no small amount of wonder, that he can also be extraordinarily... _sweet_ and considerate as a lover.

She supposes she ought not to be surprised. Despite his inherent propensity for pretending it's not so, it wasn't long into their unconventional partnership that Chloe saw enough to recognize Lucifer is... _kind—_ and not in a perfunctory, obligatory sort of way, but in a delicately fierce and deeply fundamental manner, something that Chloe has easily come to love about him most of all, and something that's a rarity made all the more so after learning the depth of his disturbing and unconventional past. He goes to such lengths trying to pretend to _himself_ that he doesn't care, hiding behind the parties, the booze, the sex, the extravagant but superficial lifestyle, that he has a lot of people convinced. Chloe's never been one of them.

It’s always the little things that give him away. Chloe still remembers the moment she was shot the very first time she worked a case with him. She remembers how he fell to his knees over her and lifted her head in his hand and whispered that she couldn't die, that he wouldn't let her. She saw it for the first time then, behind all his ridiculous insanity and unbelievable arrogance, she saw it. It went on from there, the little moments, fleeting but discernible, at least to Chloe. What perhaps sealed the deal with finality was the time she showed up drunk to his place and he refused to sleep with her. If she had any doubt left, it was gone after that.

Then there's now.

Again it's the little things.

Like their very first time, and how, both overcome by passion and desire and urgency, he still took a moment to stop and offer her his hand in silent askance, waiting for direct conformation; a simple gesture that somehow spoke directly into her heart in a manner she knew she’d never forget.

Then there was several nights ago (and only their second time), when she admitted her insecurities, and after that he made love to her with an extra tenderness and care that truly stole her heart—even when she already lost it to him long before.

And then there's now.

The delicate way his hand travels from her thigh, over her knee, and along to her calf, his fingers light and warm.

"You're better at this than you give yourself credit for, you know," she tells him.

"Glad to hear it," he says smoothly.

And Chloe can't take it any longer.

In the next beat she's pushing up on her knees and flinging a leg over his to straddle him. She's rewarded with a satisfying sound from him when she lands very deliberately into his lap. She rakes her fingers into his hair. "I also happen to know of something else you're very good at, if you would care to re-demonstrate."

Chloe doesn't have time for her fingers to reach the buttons on his waistcoat before a squeal is escaping her lips as he flips her over onto her back and pins her down into the cushions with his body, all in one quick maneuver.

" _Good?_ " he growls at her. "Just _good?_ " Chloe doesn't have a chance to answer before he attacks, tickling her mercilessly. By the time he finally lets up, she's laughing so hard that she's gasping for air and her eyes are wet.

It's something else she didn't expect; his playfulness, the way he carefully smooths back her hair afterward, even when he's demanding she take back her terrible insult to his ego (insert eye roll here).

"I'm...not...sure..." Chloe manages to tease between trying to catch her breath. "Guess...you'll...have...to remind me."

She gulps at the searing look he gives her, but her own hands move with equal haste as they attack the buttons on his waistcoat, followed by his shirt. Her skirt is bunched at her waist now as she wraps her legs around him.

Lucifer nearly knocks over the wine glasses when he lifts her up and carries her to the bedroom, his mouth hot and very expert indeed the entire way there.

Dinner is forgotten.


	5. Saturday

Chloe awakes feeling very pleasant indeed. She feels her lips curving upwards as she blinks languidly to take in the Saturday morning sun streaming into the penthouse. She allows herself several seconds to bask in the feeling. Sheet tucked around her, she's facing away from the opposite side of the bed, but her senses tell her it's not empty this time.

During her recent overnight forays (the number of which are regrettably far less than the number of days, because, well, she does have responsibilities) this first week of their relationship, she's already found herself awakening in the night—far more times than she likes—feeling bereft and finding the bed beside her cold and empty. He never goes far; she usually finds him taking vigil either in the chair near the bed or out on the balcony, but it's still much farther than Chloe likes.

At first, she was embarrassed, knowing how she snores, and past experiences have rendered this a great source of anxiety and self-consciousness for her. Even Dan struggled with it. But while Lucifer does tease her about it (obviously), he's also told her in sobriety that it doesn't bother nor keep him awake, and one of the advantages of having a partner who never lies is she can believe him. Furthermore, even without this, it truly hasn't seemed to bother him on other occasion.

Which then leaves the question of the true culprit for his intermittent sleeping habits. Of course, asking him yields her nothing but one of four options: a quipped remark, a noncommittal shrug, a change of subject, or a combination of the three. This then leads to the second worry: that the culprit is her presence, or their new relationship, or both. Most recently, however, while she'll wager worry number two may be somewhat of a contributor, she's now beginning to more strongly suspect Lucifer's inability to sleep for intervals longer than two or three hours at a time is in fact a long-running point of _normal_ for him and has nothing to do with her at all.

She's not sure this conclusion isn't worse. She opts not to think about it right now.

Slowly, she turns to confirm her initial assessment of his presence, and she's not disappointed.

It's the warmth that gave it away. Even without direct contact she can feel the heat from his body, rather like a large radiator. She suspects it has something to do with the fact that there's just so _much_ of him.

Yep. There's definitely that.

One of the things about Lucifer is that he hasn't a single _shred_ of modesty. Not even the tiniest morsel of it. None. At. All.

Case in point. While Chloe, at present, has the sheet wrapped around her naked body, Lucifer, for his part, is lying on his back—naked, obviously—with the sheet (nor anything else for that matter) covering...absolutely nothing at all.

Not that Chloe's complaining. However, it does, admittedly, take some getting used to. After all, a naked Lucifer does impart quite the overshadowing presence—something of which the smug bastard knows all too well.

The thing is, right now, he's _sleeping,_ and Chloe's not so overmodest nor puritan not to use _that_ to her advantage. After all, the opportunity to ogle entirely free from Lucifer's unique and excessively pretentious brand of merciless ridicule is far too tempting to pass up.

And Chloe can't help it; her eyes are immediately drawn to _that_ particular part of him first. Even without arousal he's impressive to an intimidating degree. Now that she can stare freely in daylight Chloe actually feels a bit unnerved. In the moment she's always been so overcome with _want_ that she hasn't given it too much thought, but taking in the full sight of him now it's hard not to feel a bit piqued to wonder how it hasn't actually _hurt_. No wonder she's been sore at times afterward.

Despite his state of unawares, Chloe feels a pinch of heat in her cheeks for staring so long, but it's not enough to halt her full appraisal, and her eyes transverse upward.

She's somewhat fascinated by the fact that not a single part of him is the least bit soft. He's lean but impressively muscular, with a large frame and wide shoulders, and Chloe can admit to enjoying watching this impressive play of muscle and sinew whenever he moves, preferably sans shirt. His chest is delectably sculpted, and Chloe stares at it now, watching its reassuring rise and fall, and taking in its smooth but hard planes and angles. He has little chest hair but there's a dark and enticing brush of it that starts around his navel and dips...lower. Chloe slides her eyes back up. His skin is smooth and free of any visible scars, but Chloe well knows it's the scars of the invisible kind that cut far deeper, and she's instantly conjuring the memory of the shockingly wide and long crescent-shaped scars of coarse and roughhewn skin near transversing his entire back. Chloe can't even begin to understand how he could've mutilated himself in such a way, but she knows there's still a lot she doesn't understand or know. She can only hope she can break down his many walls with time and patience.

She tries not to linger too long on that thought either.

Apparently, her eyes have decided to linger elsewhere— _again_.

She's alarmed to discover that this particular part of him no longer appears dormant, but then surely she must be imagining it. Her eyes flick to his face to see nothing has changed, but another flick downward appears to say otherwise.

"Careful now."

Chloe starts a little, her eyes cutting upward to find Lucifer's own eyes cracking open now while his lips pull upward in a lazy—but somehow also insufferably smug—grin. "If you go looking for trouble you just might find it," he warns, albeit languidly.

"I thought you were asleep," Chloe blurts accusingly, her face feeling noticeably warm at being caught in the act.

"I _was_ ," he insists, dispelling her accusation with a raised brow. Then he gestures, completely unabashed, to his most prominent member. "Big Ben just has a mind of his own, don't you know. He also tends to be quite sensitive. Best be careful not to offend him."

Propped up on her right arm, Chloe uses her left hand to deliver a shove to his chest for his teasing. Of course, given that she was using the hand to hold the sheet up to her chest, it slips down a bit when she lets go, and Lucifer's eyes immediately lock on. He lifts a hand and drags down the sheet the rest of the way, exposing her breasts to his gaze. He doesn't touch, just stares, but Chloe supposes turnabout is fair play, and she feels a flushed warmth curling outwards from where his eyes stay locked. Eventually, drawn by the warmth of him, she moves to lie against him, pressing the naked softness of her own chest into the hardness of his and feeling a degree of satisfaction at the notable intake of breath he takes when she settles there.

"Comfortable?" he asks.

"Mm, yes," she says. He's silent for a beat too long and she angles her face up to look at him. "You?"

"Well let's see," he says glibly, "waking up with Chloe ' _when hell freezes over'_ Decker warming my bed. What's not to like?"

Chloe gives him a look. "You're never going to let me live that down are you?"

"Not a chance," he says jauntily. "You do realize I've been trying to get you to have sex with me for five years? I was beginning to wonder if you didn't have some kind of biological disfunction. I mean, being immune to all of _this_."

Chloe can attest that there are times when being with Lucifer requires a great deal of patience, amongst other things. "I was never immune to _that_ , Lucifer."

"No?"

"You know I wasn't."

Chloe pushes up to look at him, trying not to be offended by his insensitive remarks, knowing he often uses his careless tongue to disguise what he's truly feeling whenever he's struggling to process it.

Slowly, his hand comes up to her cheek, and Chloe has the real answer to her question, because this speaks far more than his sharp tongue. She suspected as much. What she _doesn't_ expect, is what comes next.

"That was rude, wasn't it?"

Chloe blinks, surprised by the admission. "A bit," she allows.

"Sorry."

Chloe leans down and kisses him softly to indicate her forgiveness.

His hand slips into her hair when he kisses her back.

Chloe shifts over him, sliding both hands down over his chest. Her mouth then follows the path of her hands, continuing her exploration with a slow trail of kisses. After a moment she notices his breathing appears to have stopped, and she lifts her head to look at him. "Something wrong?" she asks.

"I...no." The last word is firm, and his eyes hold hers.

Chloe's reminded that all his past encounters focused on fulfilling someone else's desires rather than his own, his own pleasure coming secondary to theirs, and she's overcome with the powerful urge to focus entirely on _giving_.

Slowly and deliberately, she slides her hands down his chest and across his abs, paying close attention to the changes in his breathing and any sound he makes. She notes his very prominent member is now _very_ prominent indeed, and she brazenly wraps her hand around it, gratified to hear the deep groan this elicits from him.

Though she's certainly been an active participant in their love-making thus far, she's typically allowed him to take the lead. Call it getting in touch with her feminine side, but if she's honest she generally prefers it this way, and Lucifer seemed more than keen for his part. Regardless, she's willing to try something a bit different when the occasion calls for it (which this does, she thinks). Without further thought she's moving astride him, taking hold of him again as she positions herself. In hindsight...it's not the best move; she realizes this when guiding herself down onto him proves to actually _hurt_ —just a bit. Fleetingly (and idiotically) she wonders how this hasn't happened before when he's done it. Given that she's mortified at the thought of acknowledging her predicament, she decides to tough it out anyway, but Lucifer is much more observant than she gives him credit for, and she doesn't get far before his hands are coming up to grip her hips firmly, halting any further progress. "No," he says, voice a bit raspy. Before she can respond, he's lifting her gently and depositing her down on the mattress beside him.

His lips go to her ear. "You're not ready enough, Darling," he declares, pressing a kiss just below her ear and causing her skin to erupt with a tingling buzz that spreads outward exponentially. Realizing what he means (and where she went wrong), her entire face goes hot with color. In her defence, she can blame his renowned size and the (now very obvious) fact that she's unaccustomed to accounting for such things.

Clearly, Lucifer is more than accustomed to having to account for such things. Furthermore, he's being unequivocally decent and chivalrous about it. Chloe might just love him more for it. Okay, she definitely does.

He kisses her again. On the lips this time. And much more thoroughly. When he finally draws back, she's feeling delectably light-headed, and her heart is skipping beats in her chest. "Allow me to rectify that," he offers with a salacious grin.

And rectify it he does.

With his hands.

And his fingers.

And his mouth.

Honestly, it doesn't take him long.

When he finally gathers her up and slides into her, it's an achingly full kind of pressure that sends her over the edge so rapidly it takes her breath away (so much for giving not receiving. Well—there's always next time).

Afterward, when they lie there, blissfully tangled up in each other, Chloe can't help but have a deeper appreciation for his skillful consideration in the bedroom. Case in point: she _does_ need to be _very_ _ready_ to accommodate him (she's not about to make that mistake again, thank you very much), and even in the heat of the moment, _he's_ never made _that_ mistake, which means he's quite thoughtfully attentive indeed (a commendable feat, given it's evidently very easy for him _not_ to be, and particularly given he was more than ready himself).

And speaking of...

Chloe squirms against him, and...hmm, yes, she's rewarded with another low groan. "Sensitive, huh?" she teases, turning around in his arms and pressing a kiss to his jaw.

"Told you," he says.

She shifts again, and grins cheekily. " _How_ sensitive?"

He flips her over and nuzzles the ticklish region of her neck, his stubble scraping at it, earning a sound from the back of her throat. "Very," he tells her. His lips slide over hers and against them he adds in a murmur, "Especially for _you_."

The admission does funny, happy things to the pit of her stomach. She grips his hair and pulls him back to look at him. "Really?"

His eyes are dark on hers. "Yes."

The warmth spreads upward from her stomach, and she pulls him back down.

She has a feeling they might not make it out of bed today.


End file.
